Think Happy Thoughts
by Call-me-Cassandra
Summary: "That wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't suck it out of me..." Prisoner of Azkaban . Sirius muses on how he kept his sanity in Azkaban. This can be read as a companion to "Just in Case". I will continue if there is interest shown.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I wrote these words, I stole these concepts.**

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It's said that Azkaban drives a man crazy. It's the dementors that do it. Swooping and slipping down hallways and through bars, they creep into your cell and into your mind before you can even begin to erect defenses against them.

Nothing keeps the chill away—not occlumancy, not wandless cheering charms or conjured flames. Nothing. Relentlessly they slip into the mind and destroy the most cherished memories, the only brightest spots in a tarnished past.

Piece by piece the psyche fractures and you lose yourself, the parts of you that make you…well, you. After a few weeks, possibly months if you're very strong, all that remains is a shell inhabited by the Ghost of Darkness.

Every misdeed, every betrayal, every moment pushed to the back of the mind that you promised you would never think about again—these are the moments that one lives in. These are the only moments left that matter. This is who you are.

Sirius Black sat morosely in his cell, pondering the nature of the darkness that was growing inside of him. The simplicity of his canine emotions was enough to provide a buffer from the worst of the onslaught, but he could not always be a dog. In the interim, it was his parents to whom he owed the debt for his continued sanity.

Ironically, the very same misery and agony that had caused him to run away from home as a boy was responsible for saving him now. As a passing stranger gawked at the convicted psychopath, Sirius shut his eyes and watched the never ending stream of vitriol spill across his mind's eye.

He imagined that it was something like the muggle expression, "watching your life pass before your eyes". He believed that they claimed this happened when one was near death. Was he near death? He often hoped so.

He needn't worry about losing himself to the dementors. For every happy memory he had ever had, he had a corresponding moment of grief or agony to balance it out. Using this principle, he remembered everything. He remembered too much.

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**Authors Note: If I get enough response I will continue this piece. It will now be around 6 chapters if I follow the timeline I'm working from…but sometimes things get away from me. It will be followed by another piece about Sirius's reaction to Remus in the Shack. **

**PS: I am searching for a beta, if anyone is interested.**


	2. Grief

**AN: I would like to thank my anonymous reviewer very much. I'm glad that you have enjoyed this thus far. Just to let everyone know, if you review for me, I will definitely review for you. Tit for tat. Enjoy!**

Grief was not a happy feeling. They could not take his grief. He learned about grief early, when he was only 5 years old. He thought that he may have had a happy childhood, or at least a privileged one. He can't remember anything before, so it must not have been too horrible.

The first memory that he has crystal clear in his mind is of shock and pain. He had been dreaming, or at least he thought he was. The kind of silly dream that frightens children to the core of their being, though they don't understand why. There were bars all around him and scary monsters looming close and he began to cry for his mother.

When he woke, he was still crying and still frightened. Slipping quiet as a shadow into the hall, he slunk to his parent's room and padded up to the bed. Stretching up on his tippy toes, he tried to pull himself into the bed next to his father. Feeling the disturbance, his father rolled over and focused slitted eyes on the tearstained face of his heir.

While reaching out his hands to his father for comfort, he didn't see Father's hand reaching out to him. He suddenly found himself flat on his back as his head hit the hard wood floor of the bedroom. Before he could quite figure out how he had ended up there, a large hand clamped onto his shoulder and jerked him to his feet. Disoriented at having been every which way in the past several seconds, he blinked owlishly up at the figure towering above him.

"What is the meaning of this, young man" spat his father in clipped tones.

"Can…can I sleep with you tonight?"

"No," he stated coolly.

"But…but…"

"You're too old to be coddled. You are a Black. A pure-blood. Never forget that. Now, quit sniveling like a filthy muggle and clean yourself up."

Doing his best to wipe his eyes and his nose, which was running in the way that children's noses often do, he whimpered, "I…".

"I expected more from you. Get back to bed, Sirius. Now!" he barked, pointing out the door.

Fleeing before his father's cold distain, he ran out into the hall and into the room across the way. Quietly he sidled up to a new bed and clambered under the covers. He pulled a squirming Regulus closer to him, hushing his protests and rocking the four year old back and forth, as he almost remembered someone rocking him.

Shaking with sobs, he mourned as only a small child can mourn, completely and without restraint. Instead of hugs and comfort, he received nothing but a code of behavior that he was too young to understand. The only thing his young mind comprehended was that he was not wanted, that he was not loved.

He drifted off to sleep to the patter of tiny hands on his face.

"Shhh…it's otay, Siwi…it's otay…"

It was not okay.


End file.
